


The Forsaken

by LinkWorshiper



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Warcraft - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-27
Updated: 2010-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/pseuds/LinkWorshiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world of Azeroth is broken by war and politics, but upon becoming the vessel for an untamed demon, Heero Yuy quickly learns that things aren't as cut and dry as faction lines. With his only hope lying in two enemies, Heero is dragged into a whirlwind quest that will change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thief in the Dark

Title: The Forsaken  
Author: Link Worshiper  
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
Rating: PG-13  
Stuff: Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

++++

Part I  
A Thief in the Dark

++++

In the darkness of the Silverpine Forest, Heero crouched in the shrubbery that lined the Sepulcher, blending in with the shadows around him. The leather of his jerkin and leggings creased uncomfortably against his skin as he shifted into a more comfortable position in complete silence, one hand ever-lingering upon the sheathed dagger at his hip. He peered through the gloom, through the twisted iron fence that lined the old graveyard: there were only a few undead guards wandering the perimeter, though with their diseased gait, it was hard to tell how watchful they actually were. Still, it didn't pay to be lackadaisical, he thought to himself as his other hand wandered to the pouch clinging to his belt, digging for a flask of poison to slather across his blade. He would make short work of this mission, steal the item and make it back to his guild's encampment down the road in less than an hour.

Finally ready to go, he pulled up his mask over his nose and mouth and retied the hood of his cloak more tightly around his neck before venturing from the safety of the wood and into the eerie graveyard town that was now overrun with Lady Catalonia's undead followers. It was strange to see the Sepulcher like this now, he thought as he crept along the broken iron fence, unseen. When he used to live in Dalaran, back before the betrayal of Treize had chased it into the sky, he used to escort his friend, Quatre, to this little graveyard town for priest training. Now, those bright days seemed like a distant memory.

One of the Forsaken stood watch near the Sepulcher's main gate. Heero dashed by him and slit his throat before he even had a chance to register what was going on. He fell to the ground and silently rolled into an open grave as a small commotion started to brew near the gate, the fallen guard aggravating the attention of the other undead watchmen that were stationed nearby.

He took the chance to dart across the rest of the graveyard, heading towards the old opened crypt that now served an orbital place of study for a small legion of Lady Catalonia's apothecaries. From this dark library, he was to steal the last fragment of a sigil he and his band of fellow rogues had spent the last month traveling across Azeroth in search of. He was not sure what powers the mysterious sigil held, but King Milliardo Wrynn himself had bid Heero to take his guild of bandits on this quest for the sake of the noble Alliance, and so he had accepted. He did not fully endorse the treaty councils Relena Proudmoore had hosted for the Horde Warchief Thrall, and was thus willing to investigate alternate means for achieving peace in Azeroth - at least for the Alliance, at any rate.

Under the cover of night, he slipped towards the fire lit stairs that descended into the crypt library, knowing that the moment he stepped into its warm glow, he would truly have to keep his wits about him. He had a vague idea of what he might find down below, but there was no telling if he really had a chance of surviving this particular mission. But dying for the Alliance was something he had prepared himself for the moment he had begun training as a fighter. Heero peered around the corner and into the tiny library, surveying it with the calculating eyes of the finest thief. There were four undead scholars, each clad in the robes of Lady Catalonia's Royal Apothecary Society, and three more Forsaken guards, who were lounging about the library as if they knew they'd scored themselves the easy post for the night. It didn't take him long to mark the location of the sigil fragment that matched the other four they already possessed; it lay almost carelessly on the table in the middle of the room, serving as a mere paperweight for a stack of yellowed enchanting formulas. A dark smirk formed on Heero's face: this would be like taking candy from a baby.

Without dallying a second longer, Heero leapt from safety and into the library, thoroughly startling all the Forsaken there. The four apothecaries were quick to abandon their studies and back themselves against the far wall, while the three guards clumsily fell into formation between them and Heero. Quick as lightning, Heero leapt across the table at them, his dagger bared and already slashing at the nearest Forsaken warrior, who dropped like a sack of bones almost immediately. In one fell motion, Heero turned on his heel, lifting his dagger and bringing it down upon the next undead guard, making equally short work of him and the soldier who stood after him. Then Heero snatched the sigil fragment off the table and squirreled it away in his hip pouch as he shot a warning glare at the four brooding apothecaries, who were murmuring in Gutterspeak amongst themselves. They seemed to come to some kind of consensus as Heero was slowly backing away. However, whatever course of action they had decided upon never came to fruition, for just as the first apothecary was about to make his move, Heero instinctively hurled his dagger at the undead scholar, where it soon found a new sheath in which to rust. The apothecary crumpled to the ground, no longer even undead, and his colleagues quickly rushed to his aid, while Heero hurried out of the crypt library as fast as his legs could carry him.

Homefree, he thought giddily to himself as he dashed for the safety of the woods that surrounded the Sepulcher; I will be revered in Stormwind by King Milliardo for this show of valour for the Alliance. But just as he was just about to dive through a hole in the bushes to the dark safety of the underbrush, he felt a chill around his heart, like a pair of claws had dug their way into his soul and was pulling him in the opposite direction. It was only then that he realized that a pair of ghostly, sapphire hands were closed around his chest, holding him fast. Heero's eyes darted about with wild fear as he tried to search out the master of this otherworldly being that had impeded his getaway. It didn't take long for the one matching such a description made himself known.

"Where are you running to with such fervor in this dark wood, rogue?" came a deep baritone that was gouged with the scratchy tones of the undead Forsaken. Heero's eyes widened fearfully as a powerful looking warlock materialized out of the gloom, his yellowed eyes glowing like twin lanterns in the night. His matted brown hair hung in tangles around his rotting face and fell in a long, knotted braid over one shoulder.

"It is none of your affair," Heero retorted snidely, certain that even the most polite of mannerisms wouldn't save him. He was fully aware that the Forsaken had no love for anything that still drew breath, and he shuddered to think what sort of torturous end this warlock had in mind for him. Turning his head away from the warlock, he snorted, "O, have this hellspawned minion of yours do what it will with me already. I am not afraid to die."

A slow smile that revealed a mouth full of decayed teeth spread across the warlock's face as a scratchy cackle fell through his stretched, white lips. It strained the leather stitches that barely held fast the rip extending from the corner of his mouth. "Humans, ever so amusing, even to the end," the warlock mused, lifting a bony hand that was only half covered in flesh to stroke his chin. "It is ironic that you and I would crave the same thing so desperately. What makes you think you have earned the right to the eternal sleep when I have been waiting an age to experience it?"

Heero whipped his head back to shoot a dastardly glare at the warlock for a comment that so belittled his want for a honourable death. In an instant, the warlock seemed to have been taken aback, as if startled. Heero was not slouch enough to miss the fact that despite being surprised, the warlock's ghost minion still held him fast. He must have a great mana well, he reasoned bitterly, more concerned with the warlock's power source than what had caused the upset in the first place.

The warlock seemed to be undergoing an attitude adjustment, eyeing Heero up and down as if he were trying to come to a personal decision about what he ought to do next. "You carry no weapons," he said at length, striding towards his captive warily. "What is your business here, human?" He reached out and boldly ripped back Heero's hood, revealing the ragged mop of chocolate hair it had been concealing, which he then ran a skeletal finger through curiously. Then he suddenly grabbed Heero by the chin, his bony digits cutting into Heero's jaw; "Speak true, rogue," the warlock warned, his tone suddenly dangerous once more, "or I shall not hesitate to sacrifice you in the name of the Dark Lady."

Heero frowned, his mind racing at the various options he had and completely unsure what the best course of action would be. He decided that the warlock was going to do what he would with him not matter what he chose, so he shrugged and said, "I was here to steal. I lost my dagger making my escape."

The warlock seemed to consider the comment before he snapped the fingers of his other hand, this one much more resembling of a human hand, though its colour was pale with deathly rot. The sapphire ghost minion that had been holding Heero fast vanished in a twist of blue smoke, carelessly dropping Heero to the ground with its departure. Heero fell to his knees, ripping his facemask from over his nose and mouth as he clutched his chest and he gasped for breath, suddenly aware that the ghost had sapped him of most of his strength.

"I believe you, rogue," said the warlock, who was staring down at Heero with that bemused smirk still adorning his twisted lips. "And because even I feel unease at the notion of killing someone who is unarmed - even if that someone is a filthy Ally - I will reward your honesty with allowing you to continue on your way." Then his apparent good nature fell away, and he added darkly, "But should I catch you sneaking about the Sepulcher again, I warn you now that I will not hesitate to kill you. Understand?"

Heero, still feeling winded, stared up at the warlock with disbelief. Part of him almost wanted to say something disparaging, but he knew that such idiocy would end in certain death, which simply would not do with his goal so near at hand. He swallowed deeply and then gave the warlock a curt nod before abruptly taking to his feet and dashing off into the night. He didn't once look back, not even to see if the warlock was still standing there, watching him go.

++++

When Heero came stumbling back into his guild's encampment, looking like Death warmed over, the others were all immediately at his side, certain that some terrible evil had befallen their brash leader. He shrugged them all away and slouched towards the low burning embers of the campfire that still smoldered between their little tents. Sitting, he wordlessly stared at the flames, thinking mostly to himself about the odd encounter he'd just had with that Forsaken warlock and how strange it was to know that a member of the Horde had allowed him his freedom. It made him question what they were doing there for the first time in his entire career serving the Alliance. What if he had just witnessed the kind of thing that Relena Proudmoore saw in the ranks of Thrall and his mighty Horde?

"Well?" came the voice of Otto, another Stormwind rogue in the loyal service of King Milliardo. "Did you find it?"

Heero faltered at the question, the hand that had automatically started to reach for his hip pouch hovering over the leather flap with uncertainty. He tapped the buckle that held the pouch fast, mulling over his recent musings once more. Perhaps assembling the pieces of this Epyon Sigil wasn't such a grand idea after all. Maybe completing this quest would end up hurting the Alliance more than aiding it. Even just the possibility made Heero think about relinquishing the final sigil shard in a completely different light.

"Was it not there?" came the voice of another fellow guildmate, this one a blond rogue by the name of Alex. He had a friend called Mueller who was quick to add, "Did we get faulty information about the sigil's whereabouts?"

It was the bother of all these constant questions that finally caused Heero to give in and relinquish his findings. Stuffing his hand into his pouch, he pulled out the granite hunk that glowed with the light of all the runes engraved around its edge. "It was there," he said simply, holding it out for whoever would take it from him. "Do what you will with it. My work is finished."

Alex impatiently snatched the shard from Heero's uncaring hand and thrust it towards Mueller, who was the lone mage that had come along with them on this journey. "Seal the magic," Alex commanded as if he had the authority to order other guild members around. "We will present King Milliardo with a viable tool he can use to crush the Horde once and for all."

Sadly, Mueller followed Alex's orders with the pathetic air of someone who allowed a so-called friend to push him around. He took the sigil shard from Heero and then announced to the rest of the guild, "I am going to perform the bonding ritual inside one of the tents. I beg you to not interrupt me, or the entire thing may as well be for naught."

Heero let out an annoyed grunt, unable to keep his thoughts straight with all this discussion around him. He stood up and told them he was going to go scout the coastline of Lordamere Lake, though the truth of it was that he wanted to find a quiet place to brood without the prattle of his somewhat idiotic guildmates there to distract him. He had a lot weighing his mind, and the thought that most of it was making him question everything he had ever believed in was a rather alarming shock he wanted to deal with as soon as possible. He was gone before anyone even had the chance to protest.

It wasn't long before Heero was able to find a nice, isolated knoll a good enough distance from the encampment that he would be left alone, but not so far that he would be unable to aid his allies should something unfortunate befall them. Again, he dug through his pouch, this time in search of a small trinket his friend, Quatre, had given him before they'd parted ways so many years ago. It was a small, silver charm in the shape of an owl that Quatre had enchanted with his magic to serve as a sort of communication tool. Simply rubbing the charm would immediately connect him to the similarly enchanted trinket that Quatre carried with him at all times, even if they were oceans away from each other. Knowing that Quatre was the wisest person he would ever have the fortune of considering a friend, Heero rolled the owl charm between his palms, praying that Quatre's counsel would at least give him some peace of mind.

Within moments, a warbled, glowing ring of light that depicted Quatre's countenance all the way from Theramore hung in the air before Heero, even just the sight of the familiar face of his friend was enough to make him feel better. "What's wrong, Heero?" Quatre voice echoed dreamily through the communication portal. "You look deeply troubled."

"I'm fine," Heero answered, though it was clear by his posture and his tone that it was a thinly veiled lie. Quatre sent him a stern glare through the portal, and Heero relented. "My life was spared by a Forsaken tonight, Quatre," he confessed, desperate to get it off his chest. "But I don't know what that even means."

Quatre said nothing at first, instead taking a ponderous moment to look thoughtful. "I will not ask what new foolishness you are undertaking for Stormwind now, but I will say that I have heard tales that even the Forsaken can be prone to mercy," he mused aloud, tapping his lower lip. "Perhaps you were fortunate enough to have been caught by one who has been shown mercy by one of our own in the past."

"That... could be," Heero said slowly as he tried to decide whether or not that was plausible or not. "But they would kill and feast upon even one of their own Horde allies out of mere spite that they still have blood in their veins. They are a proud and selective brethren."

"They are no more proud than you, Heero Yuy," Quatre said glibly with a roll of his eyes, privately thinking that even Heero's elite training had not managed to quell the hot-blooded rashness that had fuelled him in his youth. There was a pause, and then Quatre asked, "Are you unnerved by the thought that your forsworn enemy is just as capable of pity as you?"

As usual, Quatre had been quick to see through to the heart of the matter. Heero supposed that was part of why he'd wanted to talk to Quatre at all, but at the same time, it was disheartening to think that he was so transparent. He said nothing and stared down at his boots.

"The Horde is not without honour, you know," Quatre said at length. "Even the dreaded Forsaken, freed from the wrath of the Lich King and yet still damned, are not without their reasons for their dark ways. We fear what we do not understand, and I think it is that lack of understanding that keeps the Alliance fearful of the Horde. The old wars are over, now, Heero; we live in a different world, and I personally think it's high time that the people of Azeroth begin to change with it."

"Thanks for the lecture, Quatre," Heero muttered moodily, "but I didn't call on you to hear you spout the trivialities you hear in Relena Proudmoore's court."

Quatre let out a very audible sigh, running his hands through his short, blond hair. Quatre knew Heero had never approved of his decision to use his priestly training to aid Relena Proudmoore's politics from her seat in Theramore, but his disdain for that was no less apparent than Quatre's reservations towards King Milliardo Wrynn's far brasher methods. It was a heated debate that they tried to avoid ever since they had nearly ended their friendship over it in their youth. At the time, they were each trying to settle upon where they each would best be of service to the Alliance, but their differences in worldviews had left the two friends at a crossroads. Still, it was impossible to keep a snide comment or two from loosening itself when it came to discussions such as these, and sometimes Quatre thought it a miracle of friendship that they hadn't dueled each other over such differences.

Quatre was jarred from his thoughts when Heero suddenly jumped to his feet as if there was something amiss near where he sat. "What now?" he wondered, confused by Heero's sudden alertness.

"Shh, I-" Heero hissed, his eyes darting around suspiciously. He thought he had heard some kind of commotion from the woods, but he hadn't been listening closely enough to pinpoint exactly where it had come from. He piqued his ears in hopes of hearing something else, and it didn't take long before he heard the sound of shouting a billowing fire coming from the direction of the guild encampment. Fearing the worst, he brusquely closed the communication portal with Quatre, and, stuffing the owl charm back into his pack, took off immediately for the place he had left his comrades.

At first, Heero had suspected that the undead warlock had sold him out and had brought a Forsaken hunting party into Silverpine to smoke them out. However, when he arrived at the camp, it was apparent such a thing was hardly the case. Instead of undead standing amidst the flames that had engulfed their camp, there was a large, shadowy form that seemed to be neither beast nor spirit. It had great hands with heavy claws that hung nearly to the ground and burning red eyes that glowed with the hatred. Heero hung back, watching the creature in fearful awe from the nearby shadows. It was obvious that the binding of the sigil had gone awry and that it was unlikely any of them had survived the calamity. Heero couldn't say for sure if it was the result of a miscast spell, since magic was an alien tongue to him, but if there was anything he could be certain of was that the sigil had unleashed something truly horrible into the world.

And then, almost as if the demon had been wrought from some kind of unholy dream, it suddenly vanished, though where it had gone, Heero couldn't be sure. Amid the fire, which seemed to be dying without the shadow's presence there to fuel it, he could see the sigil still glowing beneath the burning remnants of one of the tents. Its light somehow radiated with the kind of temptation that had ruined the lives of lesser men. Heero frowned at it, hating its very existence for betraying the ones that had made it whole once more. Yet, he also knew it wouldn't do to leave it there for someone more irresponsible to come across by accident. Carefully picking his way through the patches of fire that still burned strong, he snatched the sigil up like a hot coal, tossing it from hand to hand to cool it down as he quickly made haste to get away before the fire garnered anyone else's attention.

He wandered aimlessly through the forest, at first careless of where he ended up as he tried to decide what he should do next. Going back to Stormwind didn't seem like a viable option at the moment, not only because of the distance, but also because he wasn't sure he knew how he would explain to King Milliardo what had just transpired. Such power would surely please His Majesty, Heero was certain, but considering the sort of reckless campaigns Milliardo Wrynn was famous for, Heero wasn't sure he was quite willing to simply hand over such a potentially destructive item. Heero then thought maybe it would be most prudent to figure out exactly what it was he and his comrades had found; he might feel more comfortable if he could at least be sure that the power of the sigil's creature wouldn't backfire and harm the Alliance. Somehow, though, he was already sure he knew what the answer to that speculation would prove to be. Perhaps the Horde had reasons for dashing it to pieces in the first place after all.

Unfortunately, as noted before, Heero was at a complete loss when it came to magic and spells, for it was not something that a rogue really had any use for. Quatre probably wouldn't be of much service without being able to physically examine the sigil, Heero reasoned, though he supposed another council with the clever priest might not be a bad route to take either. He came to a halt and leaned against a nearby tree, clutching his forehead in deep thought. He hated decisions that needed extreme mulling over; the lack of action was enough to drive him insane.

There was a shout from somewhere off in the distance, and Heero looked up at the sound, figuring that someone had discovered the remnants of the flaming encampment. Perhaps they were Forsaken, he thought, clutching the sigil tightly in one fist. Perhaps that warlock was amongst them....

++++


	2. Strange Bargains

Title: The Forsaken  
Author: Link Worshiper  
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
Rating: PG-13  
Stuff: Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

++++

Part II  
Strange Bargains

++++

Elsewhere in the forest, a lone blood elf hunter by the name of Trowa Sunbender was creeping between the trees, a bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver at his hip. His traveling companion, a huge lion he called Heavypaw, padded silently alongside him. They were patrolling the area half out of duty, half in search of dinner, though so far, both things had proven fruitless. There had been a report in Undercity that there were Allies lurking in Silverpine, and as one of the best trackers found in Eversong, Trowa had been the one dispatched to see to the search and disposal of the pests. However, the scent of some strong magics lingering in the air was teasing at his senses and heavily distracting him from his mission. Inevitably, he found himself more drawn to the source of the magic than his task, though the deviation was something that might almost be expected of the magic-starved Sin'dorei.

Before long, Trowa and Heavypaw came across a ruined encampment in a small clearing of the wood. The fire that had decimated it still burned low, but when Trowa stooped to inspect it more closely, it didn't take him long to discern that the source of the destruction was more than just a simple campfire gone awry. With his keen senses and his taste for the arcane, it was easy for him to tell that what had happened here had been caused by some sort of dark magic. It stank of the kind of malice that he associated with the Burning Legion, he noted with a wrinkle of his nose. He wondered if that meant that it hadn't been Alliance intruders in Silverpine, but rather a band of Burning Legion loyalists wandering about instead. Idly running his hand through Heavypaw's mane, Trowa couldn't decide which one left a worse taste in his mouth.

Still, Trowa knew that the source of this unnatural fire was no longer in that encampment, and on the pretense of following through on his mission, he continued into the wood in hopes of finding the source. In actuality, he was hoping he'd be able to drink of whatever power he would find at the end of his hunt; it had been a long time since he had last fed on a magic that truly quelled his constant lust for it. The smell of the fire's magic had left a trail through the trees, which Trowa stalked with the ferocity of a starved man left to die in the desert.

When the magic's presence became its strongest, Trowa had to support himself on a nearby tree as a dizzy spell overtook him. From where he stood, he scouted the area, and it didn't take him long to catch sight of the one that was probably carrying whatever was driving his magic lust wild. He was relieved to note that it was a human Ally, who not only appeared to be unarmed, but also alone. He was thankful for that, since he wasn't sure he was in quite the condition to fend off an entire raiding party. With a nod at Heavypaw, he armed his bow and took aim at the unwary Ally, who was sitting atop a large boulder with his back towards the place where Trowa hid. As Heavypaw stalked towards the Ally, Trowa took aim and let his first arrow fly.

Despite the fall of red hair that swept over one of his eyes, his aim was true, and the unsuspected Ally roared in shock when he suddenly found Trowa's arrow buried in the back of his shoulder. At that moment, Heavypaw leapt from the underbrush and tackled the Ally from behind, pinning him to the ground as Trowa came stumbling out of hiding. He fell into a crouch next to the Ally, gripping the arrow and staring down at his captive with desperate craving. "Where is it," he gasped, now certain that the magical item was somewhere on this Ally's person. "Give it to me, and I might let you live."

"Give what?" the Ally growled angrily, not at all phased by the fact that he had a deep wound in his back and giant lion pinning him to the ground. His cheek was pressed against the dirt, but his eyes were still blue and sharp with ferocity.

"The magic - you have it, I know it!" Trowa snapped with equal impatience. He pushed down on the arrow in hopes of causing the human more pain. "An idiot human has no need for such things. Deliver it to me immediately!"

The Ally grit his teeth at the pain caused by the arrow, but he didn't relent as easily as Trowa had hoped. "I'm not so stupid that I don't know about the sick addiction you blood elves have," he spat uncordially. "I have heard that most of your kind falls to insanity in your quest for such fel magics."

The comment greatly angered Trowa, and it made him want to rip the arrow out of the Ally's back and drive it right between his eyes. "Don't speak of things you know naught of. You could never understand what kinds of trials my people face on a daily basis," Trowa said flatly, barely resisting the urge to follow through on that whim. Forcing himself to calm down, he said, "If you won't give whatever it is you carry of your own will, then I will take you prisoner and have my allies beat it out of you."

Already rummaging through his pack for a thong with which to bind his captive's hands, Trowa was imagining that the magic item would be his reward for bringing an Ally hostage to Undercity alive. Once he had tied the Ally's hands viciously behind his back, he nodded to Heavypaw, who backed off hesitantly. Trowa forced the Ally to his feet, keeping control over his prisoner with a nocked arrow at his back. "Walk," he commanded, pressing the tip of the arrow into the Ally's back and causing him to stumble forward a few steps. With a grunt, the captive grudgingly complied.

Being all the way back in Tirisfall, Undercity was a bit too far to guide a prisoner like this, Trowa decided, so he elected to bring the Ally to the Sepulcher, which was the nearest friendly town to where they were. Besides, he had a comrade there who would know what to do about this better than anyone, he reasoned as they continued on their way through the haunted trees. Trowa grinned at the thought of introducing this Ally to him, for his ruthlessness was famous amongst both the Forsaken and the Sin'dorei, and Trowa was honoured to consider him a close friend.

When the odd trio finally reached the edge of the Sepulcher, a few of the undead guards who had managed to survive the earlier onslaught on the town came running to Trowa to help secure the Ally captive. Most of them seemed to recognize him as the one who had just killed a good number of their friends, and they were shameless in their uncouth taunting now that the killer had been put in his proper place. Trowa was oblivious to all of this undercurrent, however, and he was quick to call for the company of the friend he had come to see. "Summon Duo Blackscythe," he demanded of the nearest Forsaken.

Moments later, the group had brought the Ally to the village inn and lashed him hand and foot to one of the chairs inside the derelict building. A few of the Forsaken guards remained to help Trowa keep an eye on the captive while they waited for Duo Blackscythe to receive the message that he had come to call. But when an all-to-familiar warlock stepped through the front door of the inn, Trowa was hardly able to greet his friend properly, for the Ally let out an unexpected hiss of anger at the mere sight of him. Trowa glared over his shoulder at the prisoner, just short of telling him to be quiet, but Duo's reaction to the sight of the Ally was probably just as strange. "You!" the warlock cried, striding right by Trowa and up to the captive with blazing eyes. "I thought I told you I would kill you if I found you in these parts again!"

"Take your chance, then," the Ally spat with a familiarity that confused Trowa greatly. He hung back with Heavypaw and observed, electing potential entertainment over his need for that magical item, which he was certain would come to him as an eventuality.

"Trowa, where did you find this filth?" Duo asked of the blood elf, his brow crinkled unhappily. He turned back to glare at the Ally prisoner, grumbling mostly to himself, "This is what I deserve for showing such a wretch forgiveness. Let it be a lesson."

"You showed forgiveness? To an Ally?" Trowa commented incredulously. He was now sitting on the nearby dining table, idly feeding Heavypaw scraps out of his supply pack. "When, and why hasn't the world stopped?"

"Shut up," Duo snapped, crossing his skeletal arm over his fleshy one as he continued to glare down at the Ally, who continued to glare right back. There was a pause, and then Duo said, "You know, getting caught twice in one day, you're probably the worst rogue in all of Azeroth."

At this, Trowa burst into laughter, careless of what the other two thought. Blood elves tended to do as they pleased, and most people didn't intervene with them - much. Scratching behind one of Heavypaw's ears, he turned towards Duo and the Ally and finally said, "He was asking for it. He has something that stinks of high magic, and I want it."

"Does he now?" Duo mused, still eying the Ally incredulously, though it was clear he was now even more intrigued than before. "I wonder why I didn't notice it the first time?" There was a certain tone in his voice that suggested that he already knew the answer to such a rhetorical question, but no one raised any comments about it. Instead, he flicked both his hands, shuffling his huge, indigo sleeves back down over his palms and asked, "You, human: where do you hail from? Stormwind? Theramore? Southshore, perhaps?"

"Why should I tell you?" the Ally sneered, obviously looking to rile his enemies up.

Duo's skeletal hand suddenly snapped forward, clawing a handful of the Ally's jerkin and impatiently yanking him as close to his face as the bonds would allow: "Because if you don't, I won't hesitate to let the elf tear you limb from limb in search of whatever trinket you happened to slither across," he threatened icily, his empty, yellowed eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't cross me again, human. You are under my control now."

The Ally frowned, obviously calculating that this wasn't the fight to pursue. Grudgingly, he muttered, "Dalar - ...Stormwind."

Duo arched his eyebrows at the slipup, but chose not to press the matter. Instead, he asked another question, his tone rather idle: "And your name?"

"Heero Yuy," the Ally mumbled almost too grumpily to be heard properly.

Stroking his chin, Duo looked rather thoughtful for a moment. Heero shuffled in his bonds and Trowa continued to wait impatiently, his finger drumming incessantly against the table he was perched upon. Each beat of his fingertips against the wood counted another second of the otherwise barren silence until, at long last, Duo spoke. "Very well, then. Heero Yuy, is it? Will you now confess what you have been lurking in Silverpine for?" he asked, eying him carefully before his tone took another sharp change in tone. "Because I'm no fool: there is no way a haphazard rogue that has been aimlessly wandering would be able to singlehandedly sweep through one of our rests. You are not without great skill and likely in the close service of that worm, Milliardo. Am I correct?" His voice was drenched in honeyed sarcasm at the mention of Stormwind's ruler.

Heero snorted tritely: "You seem to know the answer well enough without consulting me, warlock."

Duo smirked at his captive as he pulled one of the extra chairs away from the table and sat down upon it, leaning heavily on the elbow he bent over his knee. "And nary, I am aware of it. You are far too suspicious," the warlock grinned, knowing he had Heero pinned. "What is it you would ask of me?"

At this, Heero found a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, impressed that he had been so easily found out. Allowing the blood elf to capture him had been the surest way he would be brought to a place that might find him audience with this Duo Blackscythe. Between his conversation with Quatre earlier and all the events that had transpired that day, Heero had been fairly certain he would be able to convince Duo in particular to teach him about the sigil. So, to answer Duo's question, he replied tartly, "I am in need of someone well versed in the arcane. I am willing to overlook faction loyalties in order to barter such services from you, warlock."

At this, Duo's face lit up in the way a person's might when introduced to a new and amusing game. "Intriguing," said Duo, stroking his chin again before brushing his thumb over his lips and chomping down on the tip of it. "Tell me what you require, and I shall name you your price."

Heero's heart was thumping in anticipation, extremely overwhelmed by his good luck. But then he glanced over at the table, where he found Trowa staring back at him like he was the wrapping covering a delicious treat. Jerking his head in Trowa's direction, he quickly said, "Make the blood elf scarce, and we will discuss it. My business is not with him."

Duo frowned but was still complacent of Heero's terms. He turned to Trowa and gave him a dismissive nod of his head, which sent the blood elf moodily towards the door, his pet lion not far behind. "I assume whatever it is you need me for has to do with the thing Trowa smelt on you," Duo surmised as the door closed behind the hunter.

Privately, Heero was impressed by how quickly Duo seemed to latch onto ideas that might have otherwise drifted beyond the average person's head. However, he confessed none of that to Duo and instead cut straight to business. "Yes," he said, "and I would it that you will honour whatever deal we strike up by keeping him far away from it."

"I will make no promises on his behalf," Duo said with frank sincerity, though the way his wide, yellowed eyes were flickering suggested that he was eager to hear what Heero had to say about his magical dilemma. "Now speak."

So Heero took a deep breath and began to tell Duo about the quest his king had sent him on, careful to edit out the details that might compromise any of Stormwind's future tactics against the Horde. "I will assume you are aware of a runed sigil that was divided amongst the five tribes of the Horde," Heero began, all the while being sure to meet Duo's eyes straight on so that it was clear he did not fear him.

By the way Duo's eyes narrowed at the mention of such a thing, it was clear that he was all too familiar with the item that Heero spoke of. With his bony fist clenched and a frown creasing his rotten face, Duo interjected tightly, "The Warchief Thrall saw that the Epyon Sigil was destroyed so that its demonic magics would not rend Azeroth asunder. It would figure that Milliardo Wrynn would orchestrate a scheme to bind a power he knows nothing of." There was a pause as Duo took a moment to think, idly pulling at his tattered braid of hair as he did so. "Tell me, did you see the demon?"

"It killed my comrades and then vanished into the night," said Heero, unsure of what this could mean.

Duo let out a raspy sigh of relief, almost seeming to wilt in his chair at the thought of what other things Heero might have said concerning it. "Then it has not yet found a master, thankfully," he said, pulling at his braid with both hands now. "This means we still have time to destroy the sigil and banish it."

"What am I to do?" asked Heero.

"In a moment," Duo said, suddenly switching gears and waving his hand dismissively at Heero. "Now that I know what your problem is, I will demand my required price of you. If you are able to deliver me the item I seek, then I will tell you how to undo the disaster you have wrought." He added with a note of what might have been teasing playfulness, "And perhaps, if you are fortunate, I will help you."

Heero simply stared back, waiting for Duo to tell him what he wanted. At this point, he was willing to do just about anything to remedy this situation, for if what Duo said was true, then many more people than just his tiny guild would potentially die at the hands of the sigil's demon.

"It is fitting you hail from Stormwind," Duo went on at length. "I am told that deep within Stormwind Keep, there is a vial of a certain elixir that can remedy even the curse of death. I want that elixir, Heero Yuy. I want to be freed of this decayed flesh so that I might live amongst men once more."

"I will bring it to you," said Heero stoutly, even though he had no idea if such a thing truly existed within Stormwind's vaults. "Give me but a fortnight and I will return to you with the elixir."

At this, Duo let out a throaty laugh that wheezed in his throat. "You must think I'm completely stupid to let you travel all the way to Elwynn by yourself," he said, leaning forward in his chair so he could leer deridingly at Heero. "I do not care what you say about honour: I still would never trust an Ally to come back, and I most certainly do not trust you."

"I cannot say I trust you either," Heero rejoined with equal acidity. "But I still need you for your knowledge of this demon, so I will steal it for you - for the good of Azeroth, I will."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Your nobility makes me retch, human," he bemoaned. He stood up and lurched towards the window, peering through the cracked pane as if he were worried someone might have been watching them and then hastily drew the tattered curtain over it. Turning around to face Heero once more, he said in a low whisper, "But we can leave immediately, if you so wish. I can move you easily through Horde territory if only you pretend to be under my control."

Heero straightened up as best as he could while lashed to the chair, a look of pride riddling his expression. "I will do no such thing," he spat contemptuously with clear offense.

Duo was upon Heero so quickly, it was as if he had used some kind of magic to transport himself from one end of the room to the other. Slamming his hands down on the arms of the chair, Duo shoved his face up close to Heero's, growling, "Then we shall leave when you are killed and made Forsaken yourself."

Heero stared back at Duo belligerently, locking his gaze with the empty eye sockets that glowed with the magics that kept Duo's soul bound to his animated corpse. He had never been afraid of the undead, but there was something truly intimidating about Duo's presence - a mischievous unpredictability that put Heero on edge.

Just then, as the intensity of their stare down was starting to climax and Heero was wavering on giving in to Duo's demand, a strange look crossed Duo's face, almost like he might gag. He pulled back and lifted a hand to the side of his face, just beneath the fleshy hole in his cheek, from which a cockroach crawled out and skittered across his bony knuckles. Heero watched, horrified, as Duo carried the roach up to eyelevel and teased its antennae with the fingers of his other hand. "That is revolting," he grimaced as Duo continued to coo affectionately at the insect.

Duo glanced back at Heero with an arched eyebrow. As if he were insulted, he said, "You mean you don't want to pet my cock-?"

"Certainly not!" Heero interjected, definitely insulted now.

"...roach?" Duo finished, holding his hand out towards Heero as the insect ran in circles atop his palm. There was a definite smirk on his face, though, and it was in that expression that distinguished Duo as someone that Heero would have to tread carefully around. The dangerous smirk was gone almost instantaneously, however, quickly replaced with a frown of feigned upset: "You've insulted poor Asahi," he said, pushing the roach closer to Heero's face, clearly reveling in the way Heero was straining to stay as far away from the cockroach as his bonds would allow. "That simply will not do."

"You are intentionally inflicting this torture upon me," Heero accused with a glare that was blue and sharp.

"And you are being intentionally confrontational," Duo said casually as he allowed Asahi the roach a bridge from his hand to his shoulder. "I do not have to help you, you realize."

Cornered in more ways than one, Heero fell silent and hung his head, glowering angrily at the worn floorboards beneath his boots. More than anything, he hated the thought of having to sacrifice his pride, but he knew that if he was going to court this warlock's help, he would have to compromise himself, even if it meant having to become the his plaything. He growled under his breath, ruing the very thought of it, and at long last, looked up and said, "Very well; I will see to your terms. But I will warn you not to abuse such an arrangement, or I will be quick to forget our treaty."

Duo merely shrugged at the threat and replied, "It is you who suffers then, not me." With a click of his flesh-fattened fingers, the thongs that had kept Heero lashed to the chair fell to the floor. "Well, then, we'll be on our way to Undercity to prepare for this task of ours," he said, turning his back on Heero, already striding towards the door. "Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and follow me."

Hesitantly, Heero trod after the warlock, through the inn and back outside, where Trowa was loitering against an old mailbox. His posture suggested that he was indifferent to their presence, but that was hardly enough to fool either Heero or Duo. Heero took extra care to make his face look as blank as possible, figuring that if he could trick Trowa into thinking he was under Duo's control, then it would be suitable for slipping by other members of the Horde. He half listened as Duo briefly explained what was happening, though he did notice that the details regarding their deal were conveniently edited out of the version Duo told the blood elf. It was then that Heero finally paused to think if Duo had any ulterior motives of his own: the Forsaken warlock seemed to have agreed to this little romp almost too easily.

Meanwhile, Trowa seemed a little riled for no reason. It seemed that was just the sort of individual he was. "If he's your mind slave, then why haven't you ordered him to give me that magical thing yet?" Trowa demanded to know, obviously focused on only one thing.

"Because it's bound to him," Duo wrote off easily, though the answer wasn't entirely a lie. "However, part of the reason I am escorting him to Stormwind so he can infiltrate and steal me something that will separate it from him." His explanations continued to remain completely true while still telling Trowa absolutely nothing about the real nature of things.

"Is that what business he had with you?" Trowa asked, still not entirely convinced.

Duo shrugged, idly offering his pet roach a finger to climb onto. "He said he wanted to be rid of the magic's curse," Duo said as Asahi scuttled down the length of his finger and up his forearm. "He never specified how I should go about it."

Trowa smirked, clearly approving of this. "Enjoy hell," he said in a way that was meant to be complimentary.

"I already am," Duo rejoined with similar amusement. Again, he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, though this time, he summoned no magic to his side, but instead, only Heero. "Come on, then, slave," he said in a way that clearly denoted how much he was enjoying this ruse; "We have much to attend to before our journey."

They had barely gotten to the edge of town, Duo leading the way and Heero following closely behind, when they realized that Trowa and Heavypaw were still attached to their heels. Duo held up a hand to indicate that they were stopping and turned around, crossing his arms as he looked Trowa up and down with trepidation. "Do you have nothing better to do for Silvermoon City than to follow us?"

Trowa's mail jerkin rattled as he reslung his bow over his other shoulder and scoffed, "You are my friend, and I know you well, Duo Blackscythe. Do you think I'm stupid enough to allow you to take that magic all the way to Elwynn without me? You would have it for yourself in an instant if I wasn't there to supervise!" He tucked a loose strand of red hair back into place and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he added, "You made me a promise, and I will see it through."

At this, Duo simply laughed uproariously in Trowa's face, an unsettling cackle. "Then don't fall behind, elf," Duo said, turning on his heel and beckoning for Heero to follow him once more. "I'm not backtracking only to pick up your corpse."

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	3. City Underfoot

**Title: _The Forsaken_  
Author:** Link Worshiper  
 **Pairings:** 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
 **Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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Part III  
 _City Underfoot_

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Though he was being escorted by two of his enemies, Heero still couldn't get over how surreal it was to walk through Horde territory so freely. Since he was so used to creeping about wherever he went, striding down the open pathway was almost uncomfortable, even with the makeshift protection he had with him, and at almost every turn, he couldn't help but expect that something would leap out from the trees at him. Harder still was trying to curb that unease into a single, empty expression for the sake of keeping Trowa under the impression that he was Duo's mind slave. The very thought of such degradation was driving him mad.

Despite leaving the Sepulcher when the sky was still barely hinting at sunrise, it still took them a good portion of the day to travel north to Tirisfall. These haunted glades were a place Heero could definitely say he had never truly ventured himself, so it was almost forgivable that he could barely stifle a gasp when the ghostly spires of the Lordaeron ruins began to loom in the distance. The once proud walls of the decimated city, now crumbling and overgrown with weed and ivy, served as yet another monument to the corruption of Treize, who had once been the prince of this great kingdom. A chill ran down Heero's spine at the realization that he would soon be standing in the very place that had birthed so many of Azeroth's troubles.

"Are you sure this is really so wise? What if he remembers the way in and runs it back to his Alliance cronies?" Trowa commented from behind Heero as they began to draw nearer to Lordaeron. The crumbling pathway beneath their feet began to give way to stronger cobblestones, flanked on either side by gloomy banners that were emblazoned with the insignia of the Forsaken.

"He would be dead before he ever had the chance," Duo said, giving the side of Heero's face a rather sharp glare as they approached the outer curtain's rusted portcullis.

Truthfully, as they passed through the gatehouse, Heero couldn't say that the notion of using this guise as a chance to spy hadn't crossed his mind. It was common knowledge that the Forsaken had claimed the forgotten dungeons and crypts of Lordaeron as their capitol city, but the entrance was hidden somewhere amid the ruins and was a secret the Horde would carry to the grave. Besides, Heero reasoned further as they crossed the decrepit promenade, if he kept Lordaeron's secrets, perhaps Duo would, in turn, remain silent about the things he was sure to learn about Stormwind when they reached it.

The ruins were eerily quiet, though Heero couldn't shake the feeling that they were not alone. At the center of the bailey stood the remains of what was once a beautiful fountain, surrounded by uneven cobblestones and broken lumber. A series of makeshift bridges that were constructed of heavy planks spanned across places where the ground had caved in, the largest of which led right up to the castle keep. Still certain that they were being followed, Heero began to trail behind the others, who strode confidently towards the keep with the familiarity of ones who had walked the same route hundreds of times.

Daring to break his cover for a moment, Heero glanced back over his shoulder, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of a single ghost lingering on the edge of the fountain. It looked up at Heero and started at him with empty, sad eyes before fading away. Heero quickly whipped his head forward again, determined to forget what he'd just seen. Instead, he was gripped with an immobilizing fear when he realized that eight more ghostly shades had now materialized in front of him. He couldn't tell if they were yearning for him as their pale hands reached for him, or if they were trying to strike at him with malice. Still, he couldn't allow himself to fall too far behind, so he grit his teeth, closed his eyes and pressed onwards after Duo and Trowa.

He hurried down the abandoned passageways, not entirely sure if he was going the right way. The ghosts continued to drift after him until he reached a long, open-aired corridor that was lined with mossy statues and littered with dead flower petals. He stopped halfway down the hall to glance back once more, almost more uncomfortable with the fact that the ghosts had stopped following him. But the notion was soon forgotten, for he soon found himself entranced by the glow emanating from beyond the doorway at the end of the hallway. As he approached, he imagined he heard the faraway tones of the castle bells rejoicing in the towers.

It was as if an otherworldly force was beckoning Heero there, and upon entering, he realized that he had come across the place where Treize, possessed by the Lich King, had murdered his own father and betrayed his kingdom. The abandoned throne still stood at the back of the circular chamber, and it chilled Heero's very soul to note that the blood of the king still stained its cushions. Despite the mildewed curtains that hung around the walls of the drab chamber, the Alliance crest fixed into the floor stones still seemed to radiate with its own light. Heero dropped his head out of respect, deciding it appropriate to pay some kind of homage to the former King Terenas Kushrenada.

 _"My son...."_

A whisper echoed through the room, jolting Heero from his solemnity. He glanced around the room fearfully, determined that his imagination was simply playing tricks on him.

 _"My son, what is this you are doing?"_

He could still hear the aged words reverberating throughout the chamber. It was as if the spirit of Terenas had been chained to the very floor of the room, a realization that caused Heero to hastily back away from the glowing Alliance insignia beneath his feet. Surely these halls were a ghostly tomb, but Heero was suddenly fearful that he might be drawn in by some kind of corrupt power if he lingered much longer. He had never been one for stories, but he feared the memory of Treize and what he had become.

 _"I am... succeeding you... father...."_

Unable to take much more of this haunting, Heero let out an uproarious scream that sent Duo and Trowa hurrying back from the hidden passages that laid beyond the throne room. They seemed to stumble out of nowhere, emerging from a hidden doorway tucked away behind the throne. "What in the name of the Sunwell is _this_?" Trowa groused as they approached Heero, who was frozen in one spot with shaking hands and glazed eyes. He turned to Duo and added icily, "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut _up_!" Duo snapped, not even bothering to turn around and grace Trowa with a look. He circled behind Heero and laid a hand on each of his shoulders in an effort to ground him back into tangible reality. "They cannot hurt you," Duo murmured into Heero's ear as his mismatched hands slid down the length of Heero's arms. "Nothing here will hurt you."

The sound of Duo's voice, raspy as it was, certainly did to calm Heero down. He alleviated himself with a series of even breaths, thankful that the voices of Treize and Terenas had faded away. Schooling his features once more, he hoped that he hadn't compromised his arrangement with Duo before it had even really begun.

"Stupid humans, always so terrified of that which they don't understand," Trowa muttered, turning on his heel to walk back the way they'd come. He hardly shared the same love of games that Duo did, finding the prospect of toying with a prisoner like Heero exceedingly dull. He would have much preferred a more direct course of action, and sometimes wondered why he put up with it.

Duo was following not far behind, propelling Heero forward with a tug of his wrist. "Maybe he is terrified of what he already knows too well," Duo commented glibly as he pulled Heero along, dragging him through a concealed archway and into a sloping passageway. "Treize was one of his own: perhaps he fears a weakness he understands all too well."

Heero had to bite the insides of his cheeks to remain silent, certainly not appreciative of having two people talk about him while he was still in their presence. At the same time, there was nothing to contest in Duo's statement, as he had rather astutely pointed out exactly the thing that had bothered Heero's conscience the most.

"The same might be said of you, then," Trowa rejoined sharply as he led the way further beneath the castle. He spoke as if he knew his comment would silence Duo: "After all, were you not the one who thirsted so readily for vengeance after your brother was lost?"

Duo said nothing, but Heero could tell that Trowa had stabbed at some kind of weakness by the way Duo's hand tightened fiercely around his wrist. They continued on in silence, guided by the flicker of the iron lanterns suspended on the walls. After what seemed like an endless journey, the pathway leveled out beneath their feet and came to an abrupt end in a tiny, round vestibule. There, they found Heavypaw waiting for them, his tail twitching across the floor in an impatient manner that so echoed his master's demeanor.

Once they were all crowded in the small space, Heero again had to suppress a yelp of surprise when the floor suddenly plummeted beneath them. It took him a few moments to realize that they had been standing on an enchanted platform that was now carrying them even further underground. At least he now knew why Undercity remained so inaccessible to people who didn't know how to look for it, though at this rate, it was doubtful he would live to tell the tale.

The platform slowed at the bottom of the chasm, settling in an arrangement of mammoth tusks that somewhat resembled an open flower. A door magically released and slid back, jarring the silence of the ruins above with the hubbub of the bustling undead metropolis, Undercity. Almost too overwhelmed to move of his own accord, Heero allowed Duo to keep pulling him along as they stepped off the elevator and into the city proper.

Undercity was a vast labyrinth the Forsaken had engineered out of Lordaeron's catacombs and dungeons after they had seized it from the control of the Scourge, the Lich King's own undead army. The Forsaken themselves were only a small band of undead that had been wrested from the Lich King's control by the Lady Catalonia, who, herself, had been resurrected as a banshee slave to the Lich King until she had managed to regain her free will. Now allied with the Horde, she sought to cleanse Azeroth of all that would oppose her and her followers - beginning with the one who had woken her from the grave.

Passing through the cavernous tomb that served as Undercity's central hub, Heero knew he was being stared at from all sides. There were more undead gathered in this one place than Heero had ever seen in his entire life, all going about their daily business in a civilized fashion that was surreal to Heero. It was then that it truly struck him that there was no margin for error with this guise, and whether he liked it or not, he was safest at Duo's side.

As they crossed a footbridge that spanned a wide river of sewage, Trowa turned back to inform Duo that he was going to find someone to repair his damaged armour. "Then I have to report to Lady Catalonia and the Silvermoon ambassador in the royal quarters," he said, not bothering to mask his pride that he was allowed such an audience. "Do not send for me until you are ready to leave - and dare not try and steal away without me, either!" He glared at Heero suspiciously, eying him head to toe with disgust before abruptly marching on his way.

Duo was shaking his head hopelessly after his elfin friend, thoughtfully poking his tongue through the tear in his cheek. "By the time we're ready to depart, he will have had a day or two to get over himself," Duo muttered under his breath, partly for Heero's benefit as he dragged him onward.

The place Duo was taking Heero was a section of the city known as the Apothecarium. It was there that Duo and the other members of the Royal Apothecary Society lived and studied, and it was there that Duo intended to make his own preparations for the long journey ahead. Heero, for his part, continued to struggle with keeping his eyes from wandering as they strode by tables covered with alchemists' equipment and bookshelves crammed with tomes that were probably hundreds of years old.

They had managed to go quite some way without interruption until they were passing through a corridor lined with doorways to private studies and were stopped by a hunched Forsaken walking in the opposite direction. His face was heavily scarred and his white hair poofed out on all sides, sort of like a mushroom cap. "Ah, young Master Blackscythe, welcome back," he greeted Duo as amiably as his creaking voice would allow. "I take it you found the Sepulcher's library of use?"

"You could say that, Professor," Duo answered airily.

The elderly Forsaken cast an assessing glance at Heero, and it made Heero feel as if he was being peeled apart. "You haven't been neglecting your research, have you?" the professor said, shooting Duo a very particular glare.

Duo frowned, sounding very offended as he snapped, "Have I ever let you down before, G?"

"No, but...." The professor shot Heero another strange look and then said ambiguously, "You always were the sort to get... distracted...."

Duo's decrepit features stretched into a snide expression: "Thanks for your unyielding confidence, Professor," he said sarcastically. Marking that as the end of the conversation, he lifted a finger and snapped for Heero as he started to continue on his way. Heero dared not glance back at the old Forsaken professor as he quickly trotted after Duo, completely unsure of what to make of the exchange. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more that Duo had not yet told him.

Soon, Duo stopped in front of one of the doors and conjured a large key from the depths of his robes. Opening the heavy door, he ushered Heero inside before closing it and hastily locking it behind them. "No need to work so hard at appearances while we're in here," Duo said as he moved to sit at the large, oaken desk pushed into one corner of the room. "This place is where I can be alone."

Heero let out a grunt of acknowledgement as he took in his new surroundings. The room was obviously once a private burial chamber that had been refurnished to suit the purposes of a study. The wall by the door was lined with bookshelves, with stacks of extra tomes half hidden by a heavy curtain that hung decoratively in the corner. A niche in the stone that had once lodged a corpse was now home to more alchemy equipment. Heero also noted that despite all the personal flourishes in the room, there was no bed, and it occurred to him that the undead probably never had to rest. "Who was that man?" he asked as he sought a place to sit down.

"My mentor," Duo answered simply as he fished through one of his desk drawers. "I've known him forever - even when I was alive. He was... my father's friend." Slamming the drawer shut and yanking out another, Duo chuckled a bit and added, "I suppose he meant to imply something about you. Perhaps you are luckier that it is only now that we are meeting one another." He paused long enough to cast his lamp-like eyes at Heero, their emptiness somehow more piercing than any other gaze Heero had ever endured, and said, "Had this encounter befallen us while I was still lived, you might have found yourself lashed to the headboard instead of that chair." The subsequent chuckle that followed was nothing short of lecherous and maniacal.

Heero had a multitude of things he wanted to say to that comment, but he settled for another grunt, acknowledging to himself how it was sometimes hard to remember that the undead weren't always so. Vaguely, he wondered where Duo had grown up before he had become Forsaken. He had to surpress the urge to ask about it, though, for he had a feeling that Duo was incredibly touchy about the life he lead before he'd died and how different his existence was now. Admittedly, he supposed he would feel the same if he had befallen the same fate, so he said nothing.

Meanwhile, Duo seemed to have found what he was looking for in the depths of his desk. He laid a leather bound journal on the desktop and started flipping through the yellowed pages. "I know I made notes about that sigil you idiots forged," he was muttering under his breath, mostly to himself as he skimmed through the journal. Asahi, the cockroach, had scuttled down Duo's arm and was running in circles on the desktop as if he meant to help Duo find what he was looking for, and with a twitter of his antennae, he called Duo's attention to a particular page in the notebook. Pausing to read more carefully, Duo muttered a thanks at the insect and then started making notations on a nearby scroll of parchment. "An enchanted thorium blade?" he said to himself; "If we pass through Searing Gorge to collect the metal, we'd have to find someone to forge it for us... and someone versed in holy magic...."

"I know a priest of Elune," Heero spoke up, immediately thinking of Quatre.

But Duo waved him off, already far more entrenched in his own plans. He had unearthed a map of Azeroth's Eastern Kingdoms and was bent over it intently, already trying to decide the best route to take. Asahi was trying to help by running up and down the map in a straight line between Lordaeron and Stormwind in the south. Absently, Duo said to Heero, "Why don't you make yourself useful and start gathering the things we'll want to bring with us." He tossed a careless hand in the general direction of a coffin that was being used as a chest instead of its traditional purpose.

Though Heero would have liked to oversee whatever plans Duo was hatching, he didn't protest. He found a leather pack inside the coffin and pulled it out, hoping that the things he thought to fill it with were the same sorts of things Duo would consider useful. He wasn't sure he wanted to experience Duo's wrath firsthand; his intimidating personality was trial enough.

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The haste with which they prepared for the journey might have been overlooked as careless in any other situation, but Duo was insistent that they had very little time to waste with the sigil's demon on the loose. By nightfall, Heero and Duo were already getting ready to meet up with Trowa before heading out on their way.

"It will be suspicious if I give you a new weapon while we remain here," Duo said as he shouldered his favourite staff, a magic rod topped with a purple crystal that glowed. "I will find you something else when we are further from this place."

Heero accepted this logic, supposing it would make no sense for someone's brainwashed servant to carry his own dagger, but it still made him nervous to think that his safety would generally be in the hands of Duo and that disagreeable blood elf. Things seemed to be going according to their arrangement so far, but Heero was never one to assume that smooth sailing meant there was no chance for stormy weather. If anything, the ease with which things were proceeding just put him more on guard. _They are still Horde, and the Horde is still my enemy_ , Heero kept thinking.

"We will keep Trowa under the predisposed impression, even when we are traveling," Duo went on, holding out the leather pack, which had since been stocked with rations, potions and coin, for Heero to carry. "The Sin'dorei have even less use for your kind than we do. It will serve you better in the long run if he thinks you are mine, believe me."

Taking the pack and strapping it to his back, Heero responded drolly, "Your consideration for my well-being is astounding."

"Not as astounding as the consideration I have for my own," Duo retorted as he moved to open the door. "Now shut up and do as I say, and you might actually survive this strange circumstance."

Uncaring if Duo had always been so cynical, Heero gnashed his teeth with displeasure at such treatment and kept the scowl on his face even as he followed Duo back into Undercity's twisting thoroughfares. He thought that Duo's survival would be just as impressive as his own if this kept up all the way to Stormwind. He idly thumbed the belt pouch he had stashed the cursed sigil in, reminding himself for what seemed to be the hundredth time that this ordeal was for the good of all Azeroth.

Aboveground, Trowa and Heavypaw were waiting for Heero and Duo in the gatehouse of old Lordaeron with no shortness in impatience, which Trowa was sure to demonstrate with a glare as they approached. Heero wondered how much of it had to do with the blood elves' insatiable appetite for magic and how much was just leftover baggage that Trowa was toting around. Then again, Heero supposed if he had been alive for hundreds of years and endured some of the things Trowa was sure to have, he couldn't say that he wouldn't have turned out the same way.

"We shall backtrack through Silverpine and head towards the Alterac Mountains," Duo announced, immediately taking the lead. Trowa and Heavypaw immediately fell in step after him, and Heero brought up the rear, not about to let that elf anywhere behind him.

Things were relatively quiet as they made their way back towards the Silverpine Forest. A few warg pups ran across their path once or twice, but that hardly yielded much excitement. Duo idly mentioned that he'd like to make it back to the Sepulcher by nightfall, and at the rate they were going, it seemed like they would most certainly meet that goal. But listening to the itinerary Duo had mapped out, Heero figured that they should enjoy this calm while it lasted, for some of the regions they would have to cross would not make for leisurely passing even on a good day.

As the path they were following rounded Lordamere Lake and started to wind its way into the wood, Trowa started rummaging through his hip pouch, fishing around for a small bit of jerky. Pulling it out, he started chewing on it and asked Duo around mouthfuls, "Do you ever have to feed your human?"

Duo didn't even stop to cast Trowa a glare. "I suppose the wisdom of the ages takes more than three hundred and forty years to settle in," he answered sarcastically. After pausing for a few beats, he suddenly exclaimed, "Of course I do! Share some of that dried pig of yours." He made shooing motions at Trowa with his bony hand.

"What, you didn't pack your own pet food?" Trowa sneered back, clearly not keen on this suggestion. He was eying Heero in a way that made Heero wish he could just pull his fist back and launch it right between the elf's green eyes.

"No one asked you to come along on this journey," Duo retorted with flashing eyes. "If you're not going to contribute, you can turn around and march right back to Silvermoon City."

Trowa's reaction was schooled, making it hard to tell exactly what he thought of Duo's comment as he dug into his pouch for more jerky. He shoved a piece in Heero's direction that seemed purposefully smaller than the piece he'd taken for himself, but Heero wasn't about to complain. Still trying to act as soulless as possible, he took the jerky from Trowa and mechanically began to chew on it, all the while wondering if the undead ever had to eat.

Returning to the Sepulcher and parading across the graveyard as plain as day was another surreal experience for Heero, and he found it difficult to keep his bland expression in check while his instincts were screaming at him to cut and run for the cover of the forest. He wasn't sure why he was having such a hard time shaking that restless notion, which somehow seemed to grow beyond the simple explanation of being unused to the company of his enemies. In the end, he supposed he might just be tired.

"Are we breaking here for the night?" Trowa asked, wrinkling his nose as he followed Duo towards the familiar, old inn.

"I am told the ground is also comfortable," Duo said sarcastically from the doorway of the inn, obviously not pleased that Trowa seemed to enjoy questioning his authority over their trip. "Or we can just keep walking, if you'd rather. I'm not one for sleep anymore."

Heero was surprised to hear Trowa let out a rather good-natured grunt at this rejoinder, and even more so to see the blood elf amiably pat Duo on the shoulder as he also entered the inn. The apparent complexity of their friendship struck Heero for its similarities to his own friendship with Quatre, though it was something he wasn't quite sure he could take solace in. He was still having a hard time seeing the Forsaken, the blood elves and the rest of the Horde as a body of people instead of an adversary that needed to be quashed.

While negotiating with the undead innkeeper for nightly lodgings, Duo beckoned for Heero to come stand near him. There was a pretense that Duo had simply needed to fish a few gold pieces out of the pack that Heero carried, but there was something in Duo's behaviour that Heero couldn't help but call protective. Either Duo still possessed some notion of responsibility from when he was alive, or he was just that fixated on having that Stormwind elixir. _That, or he simply doesn't trust me alone_ , Heero thought with further pessimism.

With a room secured for the night, Heero, Duo, Trowa and Heavypaw retired for the night. Trowa cast aside his bow and quiver and collapsed onto one side of the large double bed almost immediately, careless of the fact that the mattress was old and the linens moth eaten. Heero had a bit more reservation climbing into such a bed, but he had roughed it outside enough times to know that he should be thankful to sleep in one whenever he could. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, all the while casting an uneasy eye at the comatose blood elf as he tried to decide if it was safe to act a little more like himself.

"When he sleeps, he sleeps," said Duo from a chair by the window, nodding at Trowa. He was absently petting Heavypaw's mane, apparently not bothered by the fact that Trowa's pet would witness the truth about Heero's state of mind. "Even the proud Sin'dorei need rest, I suppose," he went on conversationally as Heero went about removing his boots. "Though I couldn't tell you if it was because they get tired like humans do, or if it is the poisoned Sunwell that causes such fatigue."

"The Sunwell?" Heero dared to wonder aloud, his voice scratchy from a day of disuse.

"After they were exiled from Kalimdor by your night elves, the high elves created a pool of arcane energy with a vial of water drawn from the Well of Eternity from which to draw their power," Duo explained as briefly as he could. "But since Treize attempted to use the magic of the Sunwell for his own purposes, it was weakened and poisoned, and after generations of relying on its power to feed their arcane addiction, the elves of Quel'thalas cannot survive without it."

Heero had a brief understanding of elfin history thanks to Quatre, who had daily association with the few remaining high elves that had found refuge in Lady Relena's court. He had known that there had been some rift that had differentiated the last of the high elves from those who now called themselves blood elves instead, but he hadn't realized that the name alluded to yet another tragedy left in the wake of Treize's conquests. He supposed it would stand that the elves that had abandoned Silvermoon might present a biased account of things, but it was amazing what a difference it made. Heero cast another glance at Trowa, this time feeling a little more empathy towards him. He had always written off the blood elf lust for magic as some kind of insatiable addiction, never before knowing that it was actually a matter of survival for their kind.

"Is that why the blood elves hate the Alliance so?" Heero then wanted to know. "Because they harbour some notion of betrayal?"

Now gazing out the window, Duo simply answered, "Go to sleep, Heero." The warlock seemed to have suddenly taken a heavy thought to mind, and it showed even in his deformed face. Heero knew when a line had been drawn and said no more as he laid back against the mattress, this time less hesitant to let his guard down around Trowa. For some reason, he trusted that Duo would keep a watchful eye out in case harm found its way to their door.

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